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VOLUME 10. THE GEORGIA CITIZEN 13 pc BUSHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING BT L. F. W. ANDKEWSi OrricE—/m Horne's Building, Cherry Street , Two Doors below Third Street. ” TKHM*; 3‘J. VO p*-r annum, la *Jianre. \.1..-rli* iu -M *> ‘ r -v' u ‘j r ,‘1’ ’•r -, i >r- ..f ■ . v , . ti<*fet. M*l f'.fht * f**r : 1 h? nnMliei uj ! ;*W-i -■ ‘* with t’n’mty ’ A'KttoaMm iMrcfcaob, -Oiil UUtrE -*•’ ““i j litMilvU EUiltrK | .| . •,...* * I i*rfi *4 >tai *■ 1 < :rJ “ ■ 1 t.-rtfcUhi- u. ■ At f. ll.n. roes ‘“• * *.. Ko rive IkM p*r>.uum. * . r!i I For ~-irn liar*. “mt j ForTroliiw*. *'• J,--H-Viu’ 1.. ‘ ,I;.i Yi* ! T.-rti-x-n.tnts r over tea Inet will be ciiani.il pr., r its. Ad- j Tcrtisetm-nli uo li>l .<* in a<V. auc* wii le chaißcd a! l- , OMmtO \jtlot-a ‘if veer tea will be charge! :it t! | \anmincrmcnti of cmlHiln f w fllcc to be paid for a ttie ** raid. when iligrtoa. , _ -ale. f Lan4 *n-l -V*r rt, 1 ') ‘■'< * •••■■-'• •■■ t.,i> uitl iluardi.isii. are nai'i fwl >T Uw to • , r , •* ■oMe *uc tc. fmv it*y |>cr tnui to the flat “I u•■ Ttitoe a-ic- laiwt l held on tl*e S'.X TUC-.1-V ... the ‘'■ * • the hu < of tea In ihc three in the us cnu.m, i at the Court-boo* In thecouuty la which the | ‘l*rt) j bled. -ale* of Prnoaal PrOfeertY aiu.-t be advert - . in like manner, tortjr days _ .. i Vtir<- to Ihr •*•>-. and CMHanvf an r. J* t. ..-t in imb!l4id forty day*. . 1 \wtirr that aaadtoartoa will be maile to the Or.Snary f r lean to veil Land and Negroes, must tie published weekly for ’ ntall >n*s for Letter* of AdmlnNt-a bm. thirty dan; tor j ItUmiiMtrii nxn Ailttiiib*tratin. w*tlT, *ix iu aiiis; lif | li- . frttro Ouanlbnitlkp, weekly, forty da\!. tiitlm for ••’oreeltnlaa tf Xlortga tuoi.lh.v. f..u i nioiiths; for e.vtabiih.ng 1 and papers, tor the rail nwie of thre i mouths; for compelling title, from exeeut.rs or artnlni'Or* tors where a bond has been given by the deceased, Jt fall ( in raas u LANIER & ANDERSON, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Macon. Grn.. PRACTICE iu the counties of the Mao in Circuit, and In I Hie t'uwnUe* of Sumter, Monro* and Jones; rnso in the j t ederal Courts at Sarannah. LANIER A ANI’KKS*** have also recently become tht A grata of the following i n ,ri” n “ , '°W"'AY s K , NO , *Sl£7iX a* o* fsr’S.iovK IMS AKChCOMI'ASY. Montgomery, of which T. U. “ - l - resident.and A. Williams r\re risks and risks ou slaves taken at usual rates. al'r -tt - DR. H. A. METTADER, Ha VINO fitut t iOfa''n thrw yeAwlnthii city iluri!** whit I; time hr haft tinned a* nver Mr. Asher Ayer’s New Grocery Store. sep ts I SPEER & HUNTER, attorneys at law, Macon, G-a.. Office TrtasUr BNkW, lerner f Cherrj Street tail Catton Ayenoe. ..T r h . T - associated as partners in the practice ff AY the Macon and wlWintn* CtmU.^nd Ue where in the State hy c will attend hr Federal Courts at savannah and **j£*j- <pEER reb l*--ly bAMUEI. MUHTEH. dr. geo. g. griffin ill vi\i} MrtiiintutlY |<mwlliliifcino H MttftaiSCSC ict * to Iht lAMbhc. OIFICK on 24 Street, ia \Vahin?tia Bletk may iM wly BROWS’S||HOTE l, Oppw.ite the PasNeaeer Depat, E. E. BROWN, Proprietor, | y Meals ready on the arrtvni of efery Tratß. aprll—tf W. C. 81. DDISQN, Attorney at Law, MiA-COTJ, ga.. Iloforoucca: (hv. J. *. Brown. MlUedgesrlHe: 4. B. * W A. P< .s j Miron. Ga ; Mon. Wm. L. Ynweev, Mwntm>nierr, A a.. John E. Ward. Savannah, Ga., lion. betj. H. Hu . La V range. Ga. oi-’KH'K.— Over Kin hrrkrr A <V Urng blnrr. INSURANCE RISKS.! TAKEN FOR AUGUSTA INSURANCE & BANKING CO. AND Alabama Fire Marine Insurance Cos. bT LA.Mh.il A ANDntSIW, mpti—lf Agent*. | J. C. EDWARDS, Real Estate Broker, s.rn Lrive prompt anti personal attention to Btiving \> iud llbng Lai.d- andcln |*prrtT. Examining ! Ascyrtoining the value of Kwl 1 rtate. Aen'tngfr perty. | and all Uw new, pertaining to a gene nl Keal hjsate Agency. Urru n m id story up slain. In Lr. Strohecktr s building, uct. 10— ts 0. B. RICE, TU.,..0 OfPIANO FORTES, IS PermanenUy located in Macon. tTVisnmi be left at Meurt. Vlrfln’e and at E. J. Johnrton A Cos. nevt —ts I>K. I’. J. KOO^KVEIsT, ■dWEPITUIC PHYSICtASs Oflire ami Bcsldonre. Corner Walnut and 3rd tstrretn. MmW, - tan.il— ly A Card. A PRACTICE eitcndlag nver several eountle*. macro 11. cm distal.t from haMi. las rvsn.tcd in r:> .r.vp.cfct ab-enev from thiscltv. gmem time to attend to my bmd. esa ton and 1” thm Gtxui associated in my practice wi'h Col. K W. . , of large |.r u-tice and reput.i io*>. whose AtHs eStotowl* girl, * mt vmrmwv, MM to all easesplacd in my h uds in thiv utv. k rm* >Ltcr , - y ” and ttM Tq hI^KANE. DR. A. L. GLINKSCALES Hi ViMi stent four yer*in Wmcon, In imereffiful pr*c- A lice of Medialhein sll ilstiraicl.is; thank, ul frmjM f.viw. a'.d . ontlsues to offer .Is pr .fev-> onal strv.n. to the iitiieus of Maeow and sm.un<l', g country ■ urFll'Ko'sf l>r. B'robc ier s Drug store. and “-!* on Pu 1 c square, where he obe hi ml at all tune* sab— at el'H-r pi sci. M. R. FREEMAN, M. D. prepared to i .7 to.''-a, I table remedies, aid bop stnai iu never and stev- he wlllbeliber Jly ;ut.onUcd rr PaiCK-uisr • tten'.ioo will be given to Plantation, at,. •%FS£ZXE. W h~'mern of Ir. U. s. Thoiosoo.to whom bs rulers. ‘ M ’ , ~ l> Samuel H. Washington, attorn FsY AT I. i IV, Macon, Ga • W|| f. Practice ia all the Counties of the \f ACftN I IR fUTll.atJ in the Counties of Washington, Wilkinson and L tm*L*kt to Concert Hail, over l’ayme’. Drag Ntore. JAMES T. ELLIOTT, Attorney & Counsellor a* Caw - CAMDEN , ARKANSAS. Will attend to all Business entrusted to tun in booth Ar kinm*. dec.lo.lMß—lv .. FATTEN & MILLER (late PITTF.Y, UITTO.Y t Cos.) Commission Kerchants 84TAMI1U, GEOiCI.4. O. PATTEN. A- *• July J, 188 —ly DR. WM. F. HOLT Will attend promptly, \LT fV l * either ?t h!w < ,or*-r Bowdre & A rider at Li* reaLaeuc* in Vinrvuie, uuMMtie Rtj.C'flfter’l. y&ichll — ly* DH. B F. GRIGGS ff INI mss. f Ma- I ,vi ly u ijr. >•<• Kli Khi I'lnrub Sti.il.lli p>si, the l)-p*.i. i.crfbe l.ri—a ilou—, where he c a In found at Jl hours o’ li e t ..y an 1 i. not 4 Sm CALL NO SEE 3 VO RYT Y PES at Wood’* Iliotographic Gallery. kh'rh.uMi'tL f.T. .'i ■. and <■'-. u r.- in lit r_i t. also s large c lie ihn fli • urns I 111 n ,its is (d;_ Pas in. tsn Ai.u .-, A sti. Tin*. l'UCtl imnrtt, Ac , as maul. n v j R. L. WOOD. LOTTERIES! 11 C\ BULKLEY, AOt.NI FUR WOOD, O)I V L CO.'a fflrliratfd Lotteries, IVlncon, Ga. f.-J° See Advertisement. New Books! New Books! BOARDMAN’S ! SLI MM E ’ ’.■> H I.\DoW ; s ylrk'4 1 or'd. 01 <Mmn wltkh thft Law il reuli. Hreak*H*>t, lfn n**rand Tra; • new it 1 * k ; Kni*tlf.je Ink, by Mr*. Frtii>|Uin. TbMMleitN if ■ m-. The Sftideafo l*Ul*m *HH ry >f K-m**. 1/fr in Ameri a. by McKay.— rp and down he iirwva i. Id> >*fthe Kink by Teaayioi. tic r ti A-*. Atari* - llen f Ntnrl HWorv. Xf ur> >t. J'tLi:, <•-’ ‘I ie Tin Trampfi. While it wan M**rn ! .uy. Ain.< ‘t a ITvrrdr t*. Th (ilurj of the iiouat of l*urti ‘ntd ihe> Priic’^w. M*rr iA •*.*• *n Ito ilt*Mpnio'n***f CmpnPfH C’lttheri* ebe and ; Mat. W i * ard B k*: 1 brrt e, lelit A Credit; t l y Mitel L: V.ißioiit of F re, Ac . /c. Alw> a hoatef New JI V£MLK \YORIU>. LOT 9 J-Hiscdliini). A Vo ce from Heaven- I sliin*’ in tlio light of (Jod. Ilia like: -s -i.unps my Itow; T!iis>‘ tlio s!u*4h ( i| -ttii my feet have trod, And I reign in gb ry now. Mo l.i-e .U?i_r Innir is lior,'. N ■ k.-.-n and thrilling pain. N.> wiistod idiii-k whore thi* frerjitent tear Hath rolled and left its stain. I hare found the joy of Heaven, I ant one of tlie angel hand; To mv head a crown i< given, Ami a harp is in my hau l. I have learned th;- s.’ng they sing, Whom Jesus hath made tree. And the glorious halls of Heaven still ring With my new-born melody. Ko sin. no grief, no pain; Safe in my happy home; My fears ar; Hod. my doubt all slain. My hour of triumph come. Oh’ frieu is of my mortal years. The trusted and the true— Some walking still in the rale of tears, I wait to welcome yon. Do I forget? Olt, not For memory's golden chain Shall lend my heart to the hearts ladow, Till they meet and touch a.uain. Euelt huk is strong and bright, And love's eicctne flame Fli-ws fi .-ely down, like a river of light, To tin world from whence it came. Ikj yoit mourn when another star Slones om in .he aliu.-rino sky ? Do you WM|]i Whenilie v dee of war And tlie race of conflict die? Then why do your tears roll down And jour hearts Is- sorely riven. For another pern in tin Saviour’s crown, And another soul in Heaven t —• Fr tu the RlclißKiiEnTnacr. Oh! Wear for his no Sable Hue. * Li avsa not grtruig. Oh I wear for me no sal le line. No grief-par dine to say I’v, hid this vo.o. ciii l:i a-ileu, An l finny a clcj * f flesh away ! And shed for me tot - -aldim: u-ar.^ M<*t tears, bat -iiti’e-, y u tavi me here. And I would tiiinlc them still my own! >'or ui ir tue spot, uith urn or stone. Wii csi i’ .-! -t. mi as ous. lies: AV tlrtn year ! alone. Jli” in wiuiueut I .-k can ri- ■! Nor link my im: with regret! A j-r .isi..! inein ry I uoiild lie, To i-oa.-1-i rule and brighten yet The scenes that nee were glad to me! Ah! why ,1 onlrf : bedew the and, Wie y ■ ,ur lieiovcd on.--’ ashes rest? If re lei ve their souls with ijod, liow enn ye weep o'er spirits West? How can ye mourn that they have flcl To realms more pure—a home m< -re fair? Ilow can ye call the parted, -demi.” Who live—who love—who wait there you? Tho Shoeless Girl—The Lux ury of Doing Good- The impulse to ihirity is sometimes excited in a very singular manner, arid peisons are • fen incited to a kind act in a very curious way. A gentleman of our acquaintance, in no wise noted lor acts of iharity, was lately led to the re lief iff a distressed family, smd no doubt | to a philanthropic future, by one of the singular occurrences, so singular, indeed, that we cannot refrain from publishing the circumstances. He was passing along a str<et. in the western part of the city, one slushy day, a short ume ago. when his attention was attracted to r. girl about fourteen o: fif teen years of age, who was walking a short distance ahead of him. Her feet first elicited his notice. Sll - had on no stockings, and the only Covering to her feet wa> a pair of wont out men’s shoes. They were coar-e, “run down” at the heel, open at the toes, mid almost as large again as the feet which they de signed to protect. Itiis gave the girl a very curious wa,k,a id induced the gen tleman to take a better look at her a< she paced on behind. He observed tha’ she was very scantily dressed indeed, and that as .she waked, she trembled, either from cold or weakness. His cu riosity increased, and walking more swiftly he overtook the poor and looking into her face, saw that she was weeping. He instantly addieased her— “ Are you cold my child ?” ‘ Yes, sir—that is I am not very cold, sir.” sh • answered, blushing as she res ponded. * “Your feet must be cold,” he contin ued ; “if vnu will go with me l w ill get you a pair of shoes. Tin* child s arcely knew -chat to make out of this offer, and stood for a minute t as if greatly confused. I’inallv, the tears started afresh, and she answered “l can do with those old shoe*, sir; I but my mother is sick—oh, she is so I very sick, and we have no .money, sir i no no, not a cent of money.” Touched with the sincerity and real i distress of the girl, the gentleman io i -.Unify unfolded bis waliet, and learning ’ from Lor her place of residence, gave her MACON, GA., FRIDAY, JANUARY 6, 1800. *ome iTHMioy, told her to get a pair of shoes, and to give the remainder of the cash to her mother, and then left her.— Ihe impulse to this act of charity was irresistible, lint he had scarcely lost sight of the object of his philanthropy, w hen tho thought struck him that he had probably been imposed upon by an art ful little beggar. Nevertheless, the lit ile incident occupied his thoughts for the remainder of the <l l^ , and when even ing came he determined to ascertain whether he had been imposed upon o” not. lie proceeded to an alley and ap proached the house, which the girl had indicated as the place of her rts.dence. It was an old dilapidated cot'age, little better than a shanty. Tie stepped to •he door and listened. He heal’d moans within, and then heard tlie same voice he had heard the same day upon the street crying as if in great distress.— flix heart, he said, leaped with joy when he heard these mournful evidences that he haJ not been deceived. lie approach ed a w indow, and peering in between ths parts of a tattered curtain, saw a poor looking elderly woman, pale and emaciated, lying upon a scantily furnish ed bed, her head resting upon ihe bosom ot the shoeless girl, who was bathing her face with tears. At the foot of the bed were two or three smaller children hud dled together, iheir sorrowful little faces peering out from beneath the coverlids. Sadness was even depicted upon their inuocent countenances. There was n > lire in the room and the weather was turning cold. Our friend looked upon the scone un til he could bear it no longer, and then what did he do? Rush into the house and empty his purse upon the lap of the dying woman] No, he was too modest for that He rushed not into the house of misery, but to a neighboring grocery, where he ordered almost a wagon load of articles for the suffering family, which he saw on its way (hither,and then hurri ed toa medical friend,whom he dispatched t<y the house of sorrow, w ith instructions to do his best and look to him for his pay. “And then,” said he, “I went home w ith a light heart, an 1 enjoyed the sweetest sleep that has blessed my pillow for ma ny a day.” The next evening he mustered cour age—for pure disintere-tod charity re quires courage— to visit the family whom he had relieved. How changed the scene! A bright tire was burning on the hearth, and the little ones were playing upon the fl >or, the mother lav ing calmly, almost smilingly, in the bid, and the shoeless girl, her tearsdriel away seemed aim i.-t hippy now. This change j had been produced bv the contributions of food, fuel and furniture, which our amateur philanthropist had sent to the hou-e the evening previous and on that very day. The girl recogniz and him ihe moment he entered the door, and with hvr mother thanked him again, with tears streaming from their eyes, for the relief which they had rightly conjectured he I had sent them. The story ofthc family, is that of hun dreds dwelling In the garrets, and the cellars, and the dilapidated dwellings of j our city. The n>>ther was an educated ! woman, and had been in independent circumstances. Intemperance ruined her husband and carried him to his grave.— She was left without a penny to support her-eif and little tines, but by har I labor hid su -ceded in doing so until she was -e zed with sickness. When thrown up on ihe bed of suffering, she had not a penny in the house. Article after arti cle had gone to the pawnbrokers, and her daughter had even parted w ith her shoes, and put on an old pair she had found in the alley, to get a little sus'en ani’t* for her poor sick, suffering, yet deares mother. Kvirjthing, almost, out i* bed, had gone when she encoun tered the stranger, and just at the mo ment when starvation seemed inevitable, reliefcame in the mysterious manner w r e have described. How happy they were that night! They had fire, they had food they had medicines for their mother, too ! Our friend would cheerfully have parted with the last penny for the relief of the poor, when, seated in that home of pov erty, he saw what joy a 1r fle from his own purse had produced. And when ihe sick and emaciated mother called him to her bedside, and in beautiful, touch ing language, and from her innermost ‘ heart, prayed Heaven to hear the wid ow’s petition, and guide, direct and bless him, his heart experienced a j >y tranquil serene and overflowing, which he hid nevpr felt before. Until then he had never experienced the exquisite pleasure of doing good ! The mother ii getting well. Sh<* now sits by the window of a plain, yet com fortably furnished room. When she gets able to work she will have a sewing machine to assist her in her labors—so says our friend, who took pity upon the shoeless Girl.— Ctn. Times. PoRK-KiLi.iNG.—Thn following recipes, saws the Duo West Telescope, furnished us I bv a good North Carolina lady, we had in tended to place on the outside, in the house wife’s department. But as the}’ were over looked, v.’c insert them here, lest they be too late in the season. They are reliable. We have tested the value of one of them : Be ready, at the time of cutting and salt ing pork, to grind sausasre. Season it to votir taste with salt and ]>opper. Make cake of a common biscuit size. Fr}- them slowly , and thoroughly, without burning. When done, lay them closely in a jar. and pour upon them the gravy. Proceed thus till the I jar is nearly full. If tho lard does not cov j or them, pour in heated lard till covered. Set them away, and in the spring you will : have sup-ages as fresh as when put up.— 1 Those favored with a sausage-grinder and cooking-stove may put up many pounds in a I few nours. Place vour souce-cake in a vessel of pickle just strong enough to preserve; see that it is well weighed down. For use, slice them and fry in butter. This delicacy would keep loneer lresh than it will generally last. The backbones and ribs may be preserved in pickle several weeks. Bv following the above recipes, there need be no w aste of offal, nor any necessity to eat strong or old-tasted meat. How an Advertisement got a Wife. “Tobacco is the tomb of love,” writes a modern novelist of high standing ; but, with every respect for his authority, I beg to say it was quite the contrary in my case. Twenty’one years ago, I was sit ting by r my fireside, totting up innu merable pages of my bachelor’s housekeeping book, taking exercise in arithmetic on long columns ot “petty’ cash”—comprising items for carrots and Bath-bricks, metal tacks and mutton chops—until, tired and wearied, 1 arrived at the sum total, and jerked the book on the mantel piece. Nearly at the same time I placed my hand in the pocket of my dressing-gown, drew out a leather case, and lit a principe. Well, hav ing lit the principe, I placed my feet on the fender and sighed, exhausted by- my long job of domestic accounts. I was then in business —’twas a small wholesale business then, ’tis a large one now—y’et one morning’s totting of carrots and Bath4>rieks, of metal tucks and mutton chops, would tiro me a thousand times more than twenty-four hours of honest ledger-work. I sighed, not from love, but from labor; for, to tell you the truth, 1 had never been in love. Is this to go on forever ? thought I, as 1 took my third whiff, and looked dreamily through the thin smoke as it ascended between me and a large print of the capture of Gibraltar which hung over the chimney-piece. Am Ito spend my prime in totting up parsnips, and computing carrots, and eomptrolling washing-bills ? I sighed again, and in the act, off flew the button of my r neck-band as though some superior power had seasonably sent the acci dent to remind me of my lielpless ne-s. The button settled the business ; though, as it slipped down inside my shirt, and passed with its mother of-pearl coldness over my heart, it for a moment threatened to chill my matrimonial resolution. I pitied my own lonely’ state, and pity, we know, is akin to love. But how was the matter to he accomplished ? Most men at my age would already* have i adjusted their inclination to some ob-! jeet ; so that having made up their mind and counted the cost, little more would have remained to he done than to decide upon the day, and lay hold upon the license. This, however, was not the case with me. I had been too much occupied, too | idle, or too indolent to devote the j time or make the effort to “form an ‘ attachment.” It was through no , disinclination or difficulty* to be pleased; lor had any young lady of moderately agreeable powers taken the trouble, she might have married me long ere then. 1 should even have been grateful to her for taking the trouble off my hands; but i was too bashful to adopt the initiative. 1 was a bashful man. This weak ness came from the same cause as my Uncle Toby’s—namely, a want of acquaintance with female society, which want arose from another cause in my* case—namely, too close an ap plication to business. Accordingly, I thought of an ad vertisement; yet with no practical design of doing business, but, as I persuaded myself, lor a joke. So 1 scratched with a pencil on the hack of a letter the following : Wanted a Wife. —None but prin cipals need apply. The advertiser does not require cash, but only* a companion. He is six and twenty, and, tired of single, lie thinks lie can settle down to married life. As men go, lie believes he has a moder ate share of temper, and want of is bisonly reason for having recourse to the newspapers. He has enough means for himself and a second par ty*, and is willing to treat at once.— lie is quite aware that a great many attempts to convert his honest in tentions into an extravagant joke will bo made, hut he warns all rash intruders. If lie finds a man hardy* enough to make sport of his affec tions, he will thrash him—if a wo man, he will forgive her. lie lias a heart for the sincere, a horsewhip for the impertinent. In either case, all applications will he promptly at tended to, if addressed to P. P., to the office of this paper.” 1 felt jH’oml of my composition, and puffed away my* principe with a vague glee and anticipation of something coining out of it. I hail no very great idea that anything but fun would result ; and I certainly had not the slightest notion of involv- j ing myself in a personal collision with any* one. Still, the present!- j ment that it was not destined to be all a barran joke, pressed upon me. Ou Saturday tlie advertisement ap pea red, and I heard its style can vassed hy all my friends, and it was jokingly suggested by more than one, that I was the domestically destitute individual f who * put it forth. On Monday morning I sent a boy to the newspaper office for P. P.’s letters. I expected lie might be fol lowed hy some curious and inquisi tive persons ; so I told him on his way* back to call at a bachelor neigh bor's of mine, for a book. The trick j told. The lad was followed hy some persons who never lost sight of him until they* ran him to my* friend’s, and then they* went back and announced that he was the ad ; vertiser. I thus discharged in full one or two practical jokes which my* neighbor had play*ed upon me. The answers were of the usual character —several seeking to elicit my name, and still more suggesting places of meeting, where I was to exhibit my self, with a flower in my button hole and a white handkerchief in my hand. One only* looked like business. It was from a lady who proposed an interview in a neighboring city, about forty* miles, north. She said there was something so frank and straightforward in my advertise ment, that she was convinced it was real, and she could rely* upon my keeping her name secret, if after we met nothing came of the meeting.—• She would therefore see me at the—, at , on a certain day, and if mu tual approbation did not follow the interview, why* there was no harm done. Most people would put-down this as a trap to give me a journey for nothing. I did not. A presenti ment impelled me to accept and keep tlie engagement. This was in tlie old coaching days, when a man had time to make an acquaintance in forty miles, not as now, when you are at your journey’s end before y*ou have looked round you companyr in a railway carriage. There were but two inside—myself and a pieasant talkative, honest fac ed elderly gentleman. Shy and tim id in female society, I was yet es teemed, animated and agreeable enough among my own sex. We had no trouble therefore, in making ourselves agreeable to one another ; so much so that as the coach ap proached G , and the old gen tleman learned that I meant to stop there that night, he asked me to waive ceremony and have a cup of tea with him, after I bail dined at my hotel. My “fair engagement” was not till next day*, and as I liked the old gentleman, I accepted his offer. After my pint of sherry*, I brush ed my hair and went in search of my* coach companion and niy* promised cup of tea. I had no difficulty in finding him out, for he was a man of substance and some importance in the place. 1 was shown into the drawing room. My* old friend re ceived me heartily and introduced me to his wife and five daughters. “All spinsters, sir,” said he, “young ladies whom an undiscriminating world seems disposed to leave upon my hands.” “If we don't sell, papa,” said the eldest, who, with her sisters, seem ed to reflect her father’s fun, ‘it is not for want of putting, for all y*our introductions are advertisements/ At the mention of this last word, 1 a little discomposed, and almost re gretted my* engagement for the next day*, wheiqthat very night, perhaps, iny providential opportunity’ had ar rived. I need not trouble my readers with all our sayings and doings da ring tea; suffice it to say, that I found them a very* pleasant, friendly family, and was surprised to find I forgot all my* shyness and timidity, encouraged by their good-tempered ease and conversation. They did not inquire whether 1 was married or single for where there were five young unmated daughters, the! question might seem invidious. I however, in the freedom of the mo ment, volunteered the information of my’ bachelorhood ; 1 thought I had no sooner communicated the fact, than the girls passed round a glance of arch intelligence from one to the other. I cannot tell y’ou how odd I felt at the moment. My sensations wero between pleasure and confusion, as a suspicion crossed my mind, and helped, to color my cheek. Presently, however, the eld est, with an assumed indifference, which cost her an effort, asked where I was staying. ‘At the—- Hotel,’ I answered with some embarrassment. It was with difficulty* they re strained a laugh ; they bit their lips, and I had no longer a suspicion—l was certain. So, after having some music, when I rose to depart 1 mus tered courage, as I bid them good bye, to say, aside to the eldest : ‘Shall P. P. consider this the in terview ? A blush of conscious guilt, I should rather say innocence, told me I had sent my random arrow to the right quarter; so I pressed the matter no further at that moment, but I did her hand. I remained in at my hotel next day, until an hour alter the appoint’ ed time, hut no one made their ap pearance. ‘Then,’ thought I, brush ing my* hair and adjusting my* cra vat,‘since the mountain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountoin ;’ so I walked across to my* old friends. The young la dies were all in. The eldest was engaged with some embroidery at the window. I had therefore an opportunity, as I leaned over the frame, to whisper : ‘S. S. is not punctual.’ The crimson in her face and neck was now so deep, that ft skeptic him self would no longer doubt. 1 need say no more ; that evening in her father’s garden, she confessed that she and her sisters had conspired to bring me up to G on a fool’s errand, never meaning of course, to keep the engagment. ‘Then,’ said I, ‘since you designed to take me in, y*ou must consent to make me happy I’ ‘And what did she say*, papa V asks my second daughter, who is now looking over my shoulder as I write. ‘Why*, you little goose, she premi sed to be your mamma, and she has ept her word,’ M. R. J. From the Charleston Mercury. The Pauper Problem at the North. Already* has this gaunt monster taken hold of the vitals of Northern society. Only a year or two ago, and the cry for “bread or blood” rang through the city of New York. Already has it forced itself upon the minds of the thinking, “What do you propose to do about pauperism?” Below we give the anxious ponder ingsofthe Tribune upon this sub ject. It is at a loss to solve the rid* die, and the mind is staggered to suggest adequate expedients. We do not propose here to assist them in their dilemma. - The cry* for “bread” will go on. With the in increasc of population, and tiie rap id filling up of the Western Territo ries, the means of subsistence- will become more scant, and the struggle for life more bitter and desperate. Each year the numerical ratio be tween those who own capital and those who want, and strive and cry in vain for bread, will be widened. Capital will each year contract it self into the hands of the few, and tlie increasing want for bread will be the portion of the many. Each day the cry for bread will become more angry*. The polls are open to all, and each man’s vote is .as good as any other man’s. “Bread!” cry the mob, “or blood !”—and think you they will not have it ? Aye ! they* wiil both. We propose not, and we shall not seek, to solve this hungry problem for the North. It is easily solved for the South. Our “hewers of wood and drawers of water” are slaves.— They* have no voice in the govern ance of the land. They are but pas sive recipients. We have no jumpers —they* are slaves, and must be tak en care of. We have no moles—they* are slaves, and are put to profitable labor. There is but cue way in which we can assist the North in this momen tous problem. Let us put ourselves in a position in which we can tram ple under our feet all those iniquit ous tariffs, by* whichare fleeced, and by which their cotton, woollen, coal, iron and shoe manufactories live. Let us leave them t > their own devices. Our slaves cannot af ford to feed their jmupers —they* cost too much. Let us feed ourselves and oar slaves—and let them feed themselves and their paupers. Free trade, and no monoply*! Let each interest and each section, and each people, take care of its own home affairs. Free us of our present shackles, and we look forward with feelings of confidence and pride to our future power, happiness and prosperity*. Let the North, with different institutions, different po. litical ethics, different views in all things, workout their destiny. We shall not begrudge them prosperity, though we cannot anticipate their success. We propose only* to state the great problem, not at all to solve it, but ask of thinkers, writers, capital ists, philanthropists, Christians, this simple questiion —What do you p>ro. pose do about pauperism ? Manifestly*, something must be j done. We speak not of the maim ed, the halt, the blind, the idiotic, the paralytic —the poor whom Christ truly says, “Ye have always with you ’ —these must simply be suppor- i ted as they best may*. For these, we build Alms-llouses, endow Hos pitals, and establish various Public Charities. But, quite apart from these, more pressing in their num bers, more appalling in their steady* increase, are the legions of able-bod ied but unemployed persons who throng the streets of every city, who saunter through the by-ways ot eve ry village, who are found even in almost every rural school-district, idle and desperate for a good part of each winter, because they can find nothing to do. Now, it will serve little purpose to say that these gaunt legions are defi cient in tlie faculty* of ffhding or getting work —that they have been miseducated —that they might find work if they would take such as is to be had. This is not true of all of them : not nearly true. If all the famishing seamstresses and would be governesses or teachers in the land were to seek places as cooks and washerwomen to-morrow, they would create a glut in the house hold service market comparable, if not equal, to that from which they now suffer. Let us try* to form some adequate notion of what even this country annually* loses by involuntary idle ness. In our judgment, founded on pret ty* extensive inquiry and observa tion, there are at this moment, and usually* for at least half the year, one hundred thousand persons in this city alone who are idle when they* gladly* would be at work. Say* that only twenty-five thousand of these are full-grown men ; while fif ty* thousand are women, and the re sidue boys and girls of twelve to eighteen y*ears, the average value of their labor, if they were fully em ployed, could not certainly be less then 50 cents per day, or §300,000 per week for the whole number. All this is but a beginning. At best, instead of acquiring industrial capacity* be is sowing the seeds of evil habits, of love of indolence, which will ultimately yield large har vests of vice, if not of crime and in ihmy. Is it not possible to devise the ways and means of setting every* one to work—not, of course, just as he would choose to be employed and compensated, but so that he may* be earning bread and acquiring capaci ty until a way shall open for him to do better ? And suppose this were to cost a heavy sum, would itnot be well expended ? Mind that all these idle persons have to live—meagerly, badly*, for the most part—still, they* must live. Death by outright frost or fiimine are, happily, rare. All who live must eat ; and must eat out of the savings of the capitalists, the earn ings of the worker, for there is no no other resource. Speech of Hon. Edward Ever ettt at the Union Meeting, Boston. Below we publish an extract from the speech of Hon. Edward Everett at the late Boston Union Meeting : Siii, l have on three or four different occasions in early life and more recent ly visited all the Southern and South-wes tern States, with the exception of Ai kansas and Alabama. I have enjoyed the hospitality of the city and couatiy ; I have had the privileges before crowded and favoring audiences, to hold up the character of the Father of his Country, and to introduce the blessings of the Union, in the same precise terms in which I have done it here at home, and in the other portions of the land. 1 have been admitted to the confidence of the domestic circle, and I have seen there touching manifestations cf the kindest feelings by which that circle, in all its members, high and low, master and ser vant, can be bound together; and when I contemplate the horrors that would have ensued had the tragedy on which the curtain rose at Harper s Ferry, been acted out, through all its scenes of fire and sword, of lust and murder, of rapine and desolation, to the final catastrophe, I am filled with emotions to which no words can do justice. There could of course, be but one result, and that well deserving the thoughtful meditation of those, if any such there be, who think that the welfare of thecolored race could hy any possibility be promoted by the success of such a movement, and who are willing to purchase that result by so costly a sacrifice. The colored popula tion of St. Domingo, amounted to hut little short of half a million, while the whites amounted to only 30,000. The white population of the Southern States alone, in the aggregate, out numbers the colored race in the ratio of two to one; in the Union at large at ratio of sev en to one, and if (which Heaven avert) they should be brought into conflict, it could end only in the extermination of the latter after scenes of woe for which language is too faint, and for which the liveliest fancy has no adequate images of horror. Sut h being the case, someone may ask, why does not the South fortify ht r selfagainst the possible occurrence ts such a catastrophe, by doing away with the one great source from which alone j it can spring? This is a question easi ly asked, and Tam not aware that it is our duty at the North to answer it; but it may be observed that great and radi cal changes in the framework of society, involving the relations of twelve million of men, will not wait on the bidding of an impatient philanthropy. They can only be brought about in the lapse of time, by the steady operation of phys ical, economical and moral causes. Have those, who rebuke the S uth f-.r the con tinuance of slavery, considered th i’j leith erthe present generation nor the preced ing one is resoonsible for its existence ? The African slave trade was prohibited by Act of Congress, fifty-one years ago, and many years earlier by the separate Southern States, The entire colored population, with the exception, perhaps, of a few hundreds surreptitiously intros duced, is native to the soil. Their cestors were conveyed from Africa in the ships of old England and New En gland. They now number between three and four millions. Has any person, of any party or opinion, proposed, in so ber eainest, a practical method of whole sale emancipation? I believe most per sons in all parts of the country, are of opinion that free labor is steadily gain ing ground. It would, in my judgment, have airealy prevailed in the two north ern tiers of the slaveholding States, had its advances not been unhappily retard ed by the irritating agitations of the day. But has any person, whose opinion is entitled to the slightest respect, ever tin dertaken to sketch out the details of a plan for eflecting the change at once, by any legislative measures that could be adopted ? Consider only, I pray you, that it would be to ask the South to give up one thousand millions ot prop erty, which she holds by a title satisfac tory to herself, as the first step. Tium estimate the cost of an adequate outfit for the self-support of the emancipated millions; then rtllecl on the derange ment of the entire industrial system of the South, and all the branches of com merce and manufac’ures that depend on its great staples; then the necessity of conferring equal political privileges on the emancipated race, who, being free, would be content with nothing else, if anything less were consistent with cur political system; then the consequent organization of two great political par ties on the basis of color, and the eternal feud which would rage between them; and finally the overthrow into the free Slates of a vast multitude of needy and helpless emigrants, who, being excluded from irany of them (and among others from Kansas) would prove doubly bur densome where they are admitted. — Should we, Sir, with all our sympathy for the colored race, give a very cordial reception to two or three hundred thou and destitute emancipated slaves ? Does not every candid man see, that every NUMBER 39. one of these steps presents difficulties ot the most formidable character*—diffi culties for which, as far I know, no man no party has proposed a solution. And is it, Sir, for the attainment of objects so manifestly impracticable, pursued, too, by the bloody pathways of treason and murder, that we will allow the stupen dous evil in which now threaten* us, to come upon the country ? Shall we per mit this curiously compact body politic, the nicest adjustment of human wisdom, to go to pieces l Will we blast this beautiful symmetric form; paralyse this powerful arm of public strength ; smite with imbecility this gi eat national intel lect? Where, Sir, O where will be the lligof the railed States! . Wk§re our rapidly increasing influence in the family lof nations ! Already they are rejoicing in oar divisions. The last foreign jour nal which I have read, in commenting ; upon the event at I farper’s Ferry dwells upon it as something that “ will compel us to keep the peace with powers'of Eu rope,” and that means to take the law from them in our international relations. I meant to have spoken of the* wreck of that magnificent and mutually benefi cial commercial intercom se which now exists between the producing and* manu facturing States-—on the hostile tariffs in the time of peace and habitually recur ring border wars by which it writ! be an nihilated. I meant to have said a word of the Navy of the United States, and the rich inheritance of its common glo ries. Shall we give up this? The mem ory of our Fathers—of those happy days when the men of the North and South stood together for the country, oh hard fought fields ; when the South sent her Washington to Massachusetts, and New England sent her Greene to Carolina— is all this forgotten ? Is all the counsel that we two have shared ; all the joined labors to found this great Republic—is this all forgot? and will we’peruiit this great experiment of Confederate Repub licanism to become a proverb and a by word to the nations? Now, fellow citi zens, no. This glorious Union shall not perish. Precious legacy of out Fathers, it shall go down, honored and ■ cherished to our children. Generations unborn shall enjoy its privileges as we have done, and if we leave them poor in all besides, we will transmit to them the boundless wealth of this blessing. >#♦*> Supernatural Warnings. In the year 18-, there resided in the Bowery, Now York,- a family named Stnuley; one of the daugh ters was in the last stagy of consump tion. For several days before her death, Fanny, for such was ber.name, had suffered so much from her,cough that she could not sleep. One night however, she fell into a dyyp slum ber like a trance ; on awaking from which, she raised herself in bed, (which she had been unable to do for tome time previous,) and .sapl in a clear voice—‘-Mother, where do you think I have been?” Her mother said she could only suppose that she had been dreaming. “ answered Frances, “1 have been in Henry Street to see Mrs:; ]). ; and there 1 saw Mary Ellen, and little Jobnny—they were all in bed. I spoke to them, and told them to re member to-morrow morning at nine o’clock The sick girl sank back upon her pillow and spoke no more. The next day, the girls she had named to her mother, called upon a mutual friend, and enquired about Frances, stating that they were much alarmed the previous evening, by her sudden ap pearance at the foot of their bed, ap parently in tlie body—she desired them to note the hour of*nine the next morning, and then vanished.— Singular as it may appear, Miss Fran ees Stanley did die at the very hour specified, and all in the room, at the time of her deeeuse, heard her state ment as to where she had been—spir itually, and were perfectly convinced of the truth of her singular state ment. I heard this account from her relations, long belbre the “Roches ter knocking” were talked about, and know it to be true. • ’ There is scarcely a family in exis tence, in which similar warnings of death ar misfortune have not occur red, if they would but give publicity to them. The Cause. —At one time, when Mr. Wesley was travelling in Ireland, his carriage became fixed in the mire, and the harness broke. While he was laboring to extricate it, a poor man passed by ,n great distress.— Mr. Wesley calk 1 to him and enquir ed the cause. He said lie had been unable through misfortune to pay his rent of twenty shillings, ana that his family were just being turned out of doors. “Is that all you need?” said Mr. Wesley, handing him the amount — “here, go and be happy 1” Then tur ning to his companion, he pleasantly said —“You now see the cause of our being stuck here in the mire !” Extraordinary Case —There is a young woman residing at Clydney, Pembrokeshire, South Wales, nam ed Davies, who is nearly all the time in a condition like that of death.- Once in every twenty four Spurs, sh 6 becomes conscious and cofiVorscs with her family for about twenty minutes, and then relapses’- intb the same death like stupor. At one time, with the exception of- three meals, she abstained from fbod for thirty-two days. The editor of the fit. Augustine Examiner, in his issue of Saturday last, says : “Green Peas, Cabbjiges, Letruce, Tomatoes, Radishes* Roots, Onions and Beans, of different tjgorts, are quite plenty ; and with our ; Christmas dinner to-morrow we ex pect to enjoy Irish Potatoes from our ’ own garden.”